


you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow

by amelioratedays



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: I love mat-hyung and leader dynamics I'm lskjdfj, I'm sure you guys know I'm hyung-line trash..., M/M, Romance, Social Media AU, Youtuber Jae meets Youtuber Sungjin, also y is the ficdom so small...so desolate...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amelioratedays/pseuds/amelioratedays
Summary: Jae makes music on the World Wide Web (i.e., YouTube) and coincidentally, so does Sungjin.





	1. some nights kept me awake

**Author's Note:**

> I know I only wrote like one (and a half) fic for day6 but lmao I'm back!!!

Jae has had a YouTube account ever since his preteen days (basically forever) where he had spent too much idle time watching various music videos and random documentaries that pop up on his recommended feed. Thus, consequently, too little time on the various books and courses that he should have burrowed his head in. It doesn't amount to much, as all the other teens are also logged onto their accounts watching everything but than on their curriculum. It's only the natural course in the days of the Millennial Youth, he thinks. And he only continues to spend too much time procrastinating doing this and doing that, learning how to play frets and chords at wee hours through twenty minute span videos on the World Wide Web.

 

It isn’t until his last few years of high school that he uploads his own video—that the idea that he _could_ do something more, something seemly grandiose with his mundane life and fanciful hobbies. And so his first video is uploaded in grainy video quality and bad audio glory because he hadn’t invested in good recording material back then. In a few years he could probably pull it off as retro aesthetics, he thinks. It starts off as something he does on a whim, partly due to his own curiosity and partly due to the constant compliments that his friends give him. But it also feels like something he has been mustering his courage to do all along. 

 

He _figures_ he’s pretty good, with the way that everyone around him indulges him. But then again, they could just be doing so out of courtesy and _how_ could he truly have objective opinions if not for showcasing his music to absolute strangers around the world. Now Jae knew he wasn’t _bad_ , but how _good_ was _good_? Was it _good_ as in Good Enough To Be Applauded On Church Sundays Good? Or was it _good_ as in Good Enough To Pursue Music Good? Jae reckons that he won’t ever know until he takes a step outside his own bubble. Curiosity killed the cat, they say. But Jae reasons, Cats _do_ have nine lives. He can forgo one in the name of adventure--sacrifice a fall for the thrill of self-exploration. 

 

 

 

 

 

It starts off as a truly minimally intrusive decision given that he holes himself in the practice studio for hours on end anyways. And so his first cover uploaded to the depths of the Internet is a three minute video recorded on his low-quality phone camera of him covering _Put Your Records On_ in Studio No.3. His hair is matted from badminton practice and the old practice room seems almost ancient when viewed in this 4:3 aspect ratio, but Jae watches on at the way he closes his eyes and sings, strumming soft melodies on his guitar. His voice seems foreign, as if the mechanical tool had morphed the frequencies and wavelengths of the audio waves. But this was _him._ This was the Park Jaehyung that he had never seen despite all these years of _being_.

 

It doesn’t generate much traction, most of the views coming from his close friends and also his mother—who shows it to all her church friends when she has the chance. But Jae does get a few good comments, objective and motivating enough for him to continue uploading random covers on days that he feels extra confident. He would lie and say that he only records himself as a way of tracking his improvement, monitoring his flaws—and it is partly so—but as people acknowledge him little by little, Jae knows that music is held close to his heart for the way that he is able to present it to others.

 

And when the seasons come and go, the tumultuous years of High School coming to its end, Jae picks up his pen and writes down  _music_ as his ultimate path in life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s during his second year of college that Jae moves pasts cover songs and starts uploading his own work, mostly pieces that he had to compose for class but he shares them anyways. It helps that he has more viewers now (a lot more, in fact) and there are enough constructive comments for him to amend the pieces before he hands it in. But more than that, it's the small boosts of support that aids him before every evaluation--swells his heart with a little more confidence so that he can play and sing despite trembling hands and wavering eyes. It’s the golden age of Social Media and it’s then that 19 year old Park Jaehyung is thrown headfirst into the world of being an internet personality, a symbiotic relationship where he revels in the support and offers a part of his soul for the world to see. Where nineteen year old Park Jaehyung couldn't wrap his head around why his ordinary self would be so intriguing to the thousands of others upon the earth. But nineteen year old Park Jaehyung is also but another youth, having so much to tell and never having enough people who were willing to listen. And it only expands its existence in his life when Jae ends up making a side channel for daily vlogs which consists of content ranging from late night talks, fashion trips to the local mall, and mundane vlogs of his college life. 

 

It’s also then that nineteen year old Park Jaehyung meets Brian Kang Younghyun, fellow internet personality that he both befriends and makes a rival of. And though he would never voice it, Jaehyung knows that Brian is one of the first to fully understand him--understand the fire and ambition that softly burns in his heart, the unspoken words that fill the underside of his skin but would never leave his mouth. Where they are able to understand abstract things like _dreams_ and _passions_ laced with anxiety, but also navigate their lives just like every other young adult; poor, hungry, and tired. 

 

Brian seems to meld into his life--like long lost best friends who've finally found each other after several reincarnations. It starts off with a red notification on his inbox, blossoming as Jaehyung scribbles down chords on music sheets and Brian, blessed by whichever linguistics deity there was, transcribed raw feelings into words. They take turns collaborating for each other’s channel and Brian ends up a regular guest on Jae’s vlogs, which only escalate when they both settle into common domain.

 

Brian is only a fledgling, brand new to the college life by the time that Jae is in his third year. The notion of it makes Jae feel all too old at once, and he only pinches his nose bridge in false agitation. “I can’t believe I’m already so old, _so_ old.” Brian rolls his eyes, continuing to tune his guitar while dismissing the older’s words. “You’re no fun,” Jae remarks at the other’s lack of response, settling into the couch and looking through the lyrics a final time.

 

It’s Brian’s idea to enter a Korean contest, and he thoroughly persuades with various statistics and field analysis that only makes Jaehyung think, “ _No wonder Brian’s a business major.”_ But after sitting on the thought for a good week or so, Jae craves in. Because the chance of succeeding in Korea—the motherland—is simply so much higher than in the west. Besides, it’s only a start in their youthful years and Jae’s figures there’s nothing to lose in the attempt. And so, here they are sitting side by side while they record their rendition of the classic “ _I’m in Love_ ,” which Jae’s sure has been sung by every other contestant out there. “But we can be _better,_ ” Brian reasons to which Jae only shrugs and makes out a “Sure bro,” while chewing heartily on his sandwich.

 

 

 

 

 

They don’t win—which they both expected—though they end up placing rather well within the online poll results. Jae shrugs off the slight disappointment within him and prepares for his music theory final while Brian puts down his guitar and buries his head in the various overpriced textbooks he had to study from. He doesn’t think much of the contest until it’s well after finals and he’s idly clearing out files on his camera after stuffing himself at Christmas dinner. It’s only then that he thinks to upload the video, having nothing to do when he’s already finished all his studying of the year and was genuinely too full to fall asleep.

 

And so, on the very night of Christmas, Jae hums idly hunched over his laptop as he types in a makeshift description before uploading their video submission. Christmas songs echo around his room from the portable radio on his desk as he takes the time to look through the works of the other contestants. He’s navigating through with his unpolished Korean, running into dead ends more than a few times before he manages to find the correct links.

 

It’s times like these where Jae is reminded of how far off he still is from his goals—and just how many mountains there are beyond the one he was already upon. Where it both motivates him and sets him back all at once, and he sifts through the playlist huddled in his blankets, invisible puppy ears drooping just the tiniest bit.

 

 

 

 

 

Contestant No.26 takes him by surprise, throws Jae into a trance that he only breaks when the video on screen fades into black and all Jae sees is his own dumbfounded face—wide jawed and eyes blinking at a loss because, wow, he thinks, what a guy. Which in afterthought, Jae thinks he needs to reassess his own thought processes because while Contestant No.26 has _such_ a nice voice and _such_ bright, sparkly eyes there’s really no need to feel this awestruck. The radio plays lowly in his room and Jae is left to wonder whether the sudden warmth in his chest is from his emotions or heartburn from the turkey earlier. And when the thought of the other male creeps stealthily in and out of his thoughts, he ponders whether his newfound fixation had been one out of envy or one of admiration. Maybe it was both, maybe it was neither. The mind had always been one to work in strange ways, he tells Brian over early morning cereal. That should be the heart, Brian comments.

 

Maybe, Jae thinks. Maybe it's both the heart and mind, working in syncopation, that is the culprit at hand.

 

He finds out later that Contestant No.26 is called Park Sungjin, who _also_ uploads his own videos on YouTube. Jae also finds out that he can get push notifications every time Sungjin uploads a video but he doesn’t tell anyone that. Though Brian finds out anyways, as he does with all things with Jae, given that every time his phone vibrates alongside a high-pitched “ _ding_ ,” the older male suddenly has to take a time-out from everything to huddle in a corner, eyes fixated on the screen of his phone.

 

Sungjin’s channel is a complete 180 from Jae’s—who makes sure to stay on his uploading schedule, coordinates his icon and banners, has his own logo and keeps his main channel separate from his vlogs and all. It’s tedious work but it also gives Jae pocket money so he doesn’t complain (much). Sungjin’s channel, on the other hand, sports a small icon of Sungjin’s pet dog, _doesn’t_ have a banner, is full of unedited one-take footages— _and_ —he uploads all his videos onto one channel. For a YouTuber, Jae reckons that Sungjin does the bare minimum—which was reminding everyone to like and subscribe at the end of his videos. And it's all so _different_ , where Jae is able to place himself into boxes and categories but can't put his finger on anything for the other male, where the more and more he sees (new sides, new facts) the less and less he knows.

 

And maybe it's just the imbalance of hormones at his precarious age--no longer a teen and yet still not ready to be an adult--that Sungjin seems to be the spark of something _new_ in his ordinary life. Something akin to how music and performance had been to his nineteen year old self--intriguing, mesmerizing, indulgent.

 

Sungjin also doesn’t have a regular upload schedule, something that Jae loves and hates all at once. There’s always a tinge of excitement because Jae never knows when or what Sungjin uploads—sometimes it’s a livestream in the middle of the day, other times it’s an acoustic cover at three a.m. and occasionally late night _meok-bangs_ where Sungjin talks about his thoughts while chomping down on take-out fried chicken. (He names them late night snack videos, though the only other person that would reckon pizza and an entire box of chicken a “snack” would probably be Brian who eats half of his allowance away.) But there’s also a sense of longing in the fact that Sungjin goes into fits of hiatus and Jae’s left marathoning Sungjin’s old videos because there’s nothing— _nothing_ —new for him to see.

 

Jae doesn’t always understand what Sungjin’s saying—given that the other speaks in dialect and uses words too difficult to comprehend. But he leaves it at that as he can’t bring himself to ask Brian to translate every single time—and does Brian even understand dialect? He thinks not. Jae enjoys them all the same, with the way that the ups and downs of Sungjin’s voice seem melodic even when he’s not singing. He wonders if this was an endowment of musical talent from the heavens. He also wonders if his comments of “I love your voice!” translates through with enough emotions—because he really does mean it with utmost fervor. There are times when he attempts at more ambitious comments though it almost always ends in him feuding with Google Translate and submitting a comment that’s only half of what he wanted to say. Sometimes Sungjin replies to them, sometimes he doesn’t. It’s often a simple “ _thank u ^_^_ ” that Jae revels in all the same despite its simplicity. The mind and heart works in strange ways, as with how people worked strangely with one another--like magnets that push and pull. And Jae feels as though despite knowing that it shouldn't warrant such emotions from within him, he can't help but be pulled in by the existence of Sungjin. Brian, on the other hand, thinks he’s completely lost it.

 

“You,” The younger takes a dramatic pause, “are out of your mind.”

 

“Scat.” He hisses.


	2. sometimes we feel afraid

It is a Wednesday afternoon, cloudy with low humidity when Sungjin follows Jae back—on his primary, music-oriented channel and not his vlog channel filled with too many memes in his everyday life. Jae gets the notification at exactly 3:29 PM where he’s lazing around in the campus study hall, idly scrolling past the pdf version of his textbook for Vocal Principles. It’s then that the clouds topple over and the sun threatens to descend from above. And Jae feels a bit too much like Chicken Little for maybe the sky _is_ falling.

 

Jae also thinks that _he’s_ the one falling with how his heart drops in freefall and all he can register in his mind is echoed repetitions of; “oh my god, oh my god.” Which only gets replaced with repetitions of “oh my fucking god, oh my _fucking_ god” when Sungjin leaves a comment of “ _you have sweet voice :)_ ” on his latest video. And while Jae tries to keep his cool as he gives the comment a thumbs up, typing a reply of “ _you too!”_ he knows that the loud _ba-dump, ba-dump_ of his heart only goes up in crescendo.

 

Jae feels as if he’s on high grounds for the remaining hours of the day—mind wrapped in other worlds as he navigates through his day. Where even if the sky _is_ falling, Jae doesn’t think he particularly minds, sitting down upon the roadside to watch the azure fragments fall from above. There’s something stirring within his chest, warmth that spreads through his veins with every beat of his heart to the tips of his fingers. It rises to his cheeks, reminding Jae of the days where he was only sixteen and his teenage crush had thrown him the brightest smile when their team won the debate competition. It freezes Jae mid-thought—and all he does is stand still on the tiled floors, silly grin growing as he fails to react because, _wow_ , _how could someone be so beautiful._

 

Sungjin reminds Jae of his teenage crush is mild ways. He figures it’s his type; sparkly eyes and sing-song voice, the type that makes one feel as if they’ve been drenched in the warm sun on a spring day. He’s feeling particularly sappy that night and he uploads an impromptu video on his twitter of him singing sweet, sweet love songs while wrapped in his blankets. The audio is crappy given that he’s not using his mic and there’s barely any video except for grainy pixels of his phone failing to pick up any details in the dark. It breaks all sorts of rules Jae has laid out for his video channel but there’s something inexplicably pleasant about it that makes Jae feel a bit too fond of it. Maybe it’s the way that it mirrors some of the videos that Sungjin uploads, maybe it’s the way that it’s also the same song that Sungjin sang for that competition back then. Either way, Jae feels strangely confident when he uploads the video and clambers back to bed, falling within the cloud-like feeling of his bed.

#    
  
  
  


He starts talking to Sungjin officially—who calls him ‘Jaehyung-ah’ and lets Jae call him ‘Sungjin-ie’—on the third thursday of February. It’s the day that Sungjin hosts a live stream, Jae gets his usual _‘ding, ding’_ notification for it and he sprawls over Brian’s couch to type a “Hi, Sungjin!” in the comment box. He’s pretty sure that it’ll go unnoticed as with his previous comments in the past. Sometimes it’s because Sungjin isn’t looking at the computer screen, and at other times it’s because Jae still feels too unconfident of writing long, coherent comments for the other. Brian snides at his side, “That’s it? You’re just going to say _Hi_?”

Jae takes the other’s tone as an invite to swat his hands at the younger’s head, “Shush, I can’t hear what he’s saying!”

“You barely understand half of what he’s saying!” Brian retaliates, “You barely understand half of what _I’m_ saying when I speak Korean. And I don’t have an accent!”

“That’s what you _think_! Ha, it’s because I don’t want to listen to you. You go on and on ab— ” Jae is about to go on until Sungjin’s voice, distorted by bad phone speakers, let’s out a bright and chirpy “Oh~ Hi, Jae!” to which Jae responds by first, squealing, and second, whispering “Oh my _god?!_ He knows me! _”_

Brian only proceeds to smack his face into his palm, “Of course he _knows_ you. Did you forget how much you flailed the last time he commented on your vid?”

“Shut the fuck up, Bri, he said my name! MY NAME!” Jae continues, voice escalating in pitch until it comes out all squeaky like a deflating balloon and all he does is repeatedly slap Brian on the arm.

“I swear to fucking god.”

#    
  
  
  


Brian, despite always raining on his parade, is his best friend, Jae decides when the younger ghostwrites his friendly message to Sungjin in Korean and messages it to Sungjin’s inbox that one afternoon. Brian is also his hero (who doesn’t wear capes), he finds out when he proofreads all of Jae’s response via text no matter where he was or what time it is. He gives Jae a good amount of foul-language but Jae is an Adult enough to overlook it because at the end of the day, Brian sends him the corrected messages with Proper Grammar and Friendly Words so he can send it to Sungjin-ie. Sungjin-ie who is halfway around the world in Busan and always uses cute onomatopoeias and emoticons when he talks to his new-found friend, Jaehyung-ah.

Sungjin doesn’t find out until it’s four months down the line and Jaehyung has read half of his Korean Grammar 101—which Brian gifts him for his birthday—and he musters up the courage to skype with Sungjin for the very first time. Brian, who is supposed to stay on his side for moral support but becomes a Traitor™ the moment the line connects because his very first sentence after _“Hi, I’m Younghyun.”_ is _“I scribe all of your messages with Jae.”_ Which all in all only makes Jae wants to disappear into the crevices of the earth, a warm red flushing over his cheeks. He elbows Brian stealthily as Sungjin lets out one of his characteristics laughs but Jae can’t help but worry if the other’s impression of him is now taking a bad turn now that he’s found out Jae actually _can’t_ make nice puns nor recite pretty poems.

And in his defense, Jae reckons that his conversational Korean was decent— _writing_ it was simply another story. In which Jae finds that all of his words translate through with sanded-down edges, losing the intensity and Jae feels as though the restlessness that stirs in his chest is diminished to a subdued fragment.

“You’re different when you speak in Korean,” Sungjin tells him three months later, when they’ve finally settled in a familiar pattern of communication—bypassing time zones and language barriers. “You’re softer, in a nice way.” He says, a low whisper as he speaks into the night air. Jae can only make out a portion of his expression illuminated by the other’s laptop screen. The light reflects in Sungjin’s eyes in ways that parallel the stars in the night sky and Jae only wants to tell him the same. For whenever Sungjin speaks English—little words and phrases that he slips in so that Jae can understand him just a little bit better—he always sounds so utterly _warm_ , a familiar tingling that creeps up his face and lingers in his chest. And Jae, having lived for 20 years, feels as if he’s being transcended back to the anxiety-ridden age of sixteen, oxytocin and epinephrine running through his veins.

And all in all, the momentum rushes over him like ocean tides, hitting him with an impact that feels like he’s being thrown into a thicket of roses. With the fragrance of the blossoms invading his senses and the thorns searing past his skin. It’s the ways that Sungjin always makes him want to recite sonnets but _can’t_ that frustrates him, beats him from the inside out. And he ends every video call and instant message with a disheartening thud that’s equal in magnitude to the fervour that scalds him when Sungjin is still on the line.

It’s unspoken feelings that he can’t seem to keep a lid on where he only transforms them into more and more songs that speak of pining, unrequited love. It takes the form of his composition assignments and online videos—as if exclaiming to the whole world that he’s infatuated with romance.


	3. maybe sometimes we got it wrong

“You should just tell him!” Brian sighs, brushing his fringe back exasperatedly while Jae hides himself in the depths of his hoodie. “You’ve been dropping enough hints since the beginning of time.” The younger male comments despite Jae’s dismay. Because it’s everything about the way that Jae only works in subtle hints here and there, too wary of his each and every step, that he doesn’t know what to make of Sungjin’s reactions.

 

Because if anything, he’s sure that Sungjin likes him enough to keep in habitual contact with him—via overnight Kakao messages, early-dawn facetime chats and occasional comments on Jae’s new videos. But where the other had drawn the line, Jae isn’t quite sure.  And did this ‘like’ ever venture in the boundaries of ‘ _like’?_ Jae doesn’t really know how he’d approach solving such complex riddles without breaking each precarious interaction between them.

 

“I don’t know, Bri.” Jae mumbles, burying his head into his folded arms. “I don’t even know if he’s into guys, let alone into _me._ ”

 

“There’s really nothing to lose, you know.” The younger male says, in a way that’s so distinctive of Brian who works through life without regrets and with utmost determination. “I mean, if anything, you won’t ever have to see him after.”

 

“That’s _everything_ I’m losing,” He huffs. It’s the realization that his only connection with the other boy could be so easily severed that sits heavily upon his shoulders. Because it’s just as Brian says, the worst he can get is a small heartbreak before they both delete each other’s contact off their phones, delving back into their respective lives like two parallel lines that never intersected. “I don’t,” he states with a sullen resolve, “want to lose whatever I have with him—be it platonic friendship or not.”

 

“You’re in deep, aren’t you?” Brian says, voice lower in tone and brows knit in the way that Jae knows it does whenever Brian is truly concerned.

 

“Yeah,” He answers with a half-hearted laugh, “Bummer, aint it?”

  
  
  
  
  


There’s a shift in their conversations, settling into patterns of comfortable silence. He figures it’s only the natural sequence in life—where flowers wilt and everything comes to a slow halt before spring rejuvenates the world. Jaehyung loses the initial trepidation of having to be in constant communication and they exchange messages with lengthy time gaps between when the little number 1 besides the textbox disappears and when they actually reply.

 

More often than not, Jae finds that words are slowly slipping from the two of them like loose sand that escapes through his fingers. Brian no longer has to check each and every sentence he sends and Jaehyung settles for his words to be misspelled and in the wrong tenses. Sungjin sends him messages in a mix of languages, venturing out of his comfort zone as well. Even when they’re both in the midst of a video message, Jae isn’t uncomfortable with how they exchange mundane remarks here and there. He’d strum idly at his guitar while preparing for his coursework and Sungjin hummed along in harmonies, busy with his own work. Though, whenever Jaehyung looks up at his monitor in between little breaks to see the other’s face, the same warmth still takes over him. His breath hitches just the slightest so that he can only let out an airy “ _nothing_ ” when Sungjin catches him staring and asks concernedly, “ _What’s wrong?_ ”

 

It’s the way that when Sungjin facetimes him after late-night drinking and Jae’s muddled-headed, barely awake when he picks up at daybreak hours. Where Sungjin whispers slurred nonsense onto the line and Jae only hums in half-acknowledgement in the dark of his room. In which everything only feels so _right_ despite the lack of communication and the inevitable ending of the two of them slipping off into slumber with the line still connected.

 

It’s those moments where Jae wakes up, groggily muttering “Hi Sungjin” and getting a soft hum in reply that leads him to think that maybe Sungjin _does_ like him in the same ways. But when the day passes and the moon hangs brightly in the sky, he wonders if Sungjin is only infatuated with him when he’s intoxicated and incoherent.

 

It’s a 180-degree contrast to when alcohol is running through Jae’s veins and all he can do is ask Brian over and over, “Do you think he’d love me like I love him?” He doesn’t hum tunes like Tipsy Sungjin does nor does his eyes brighten the way that the other’s does. It’s quite the opposite, in fact, where his fringe hangs below his eyes like a glooming shadow and his heartstrings play melodies out of tune. And when Sungjin’s name lights up on the monitor of his phone, Jae picks up only to mutter repeatedly _“Why, why, why?”_

 

It’s those days that Jae wakes up to a dead cellphone, a blundering headache and dried tear marks on his cheeks. Where when he finally connects his phone to his charger, he gets a series of push notifications from the onslaught messages from Sungjin written in both Korean and English. It’s those moments where he hovers his fingers upon the digital words, headache pounding in sync with his heartbeat, and all he can process is _He loves me._

 

But there are other days where Sungjin sings songs of first loves with long hair, soft lips, wavering gazes and everything that Jae is not. Where the subtlety in the younger male’s voice sounds so sincere and _real_ that leaves Jae’s courage sinking back beneath the depths of his mind. It’s worse on days that Sungjin uploads whimsical covers of songs that speak of pining and unrequited love. Where Jaehyung doesn’t want to read too much in between the lines and found out that Sungjin’s already head-over-heels in love with someone that won’t be him. Those are the days that Jae goes to bed extra early, wrapping himself in the embrace of his blankets, and tries not to think too much of how _He loves me not._

  
The sky is falling, he thinks, as _like_ slowly morphs into _love_.  
It’s preposterous, he thinks, for how easily his emotions aggregate into storm clouds.


	4. blue as the sky, sunburnt and lonely

It catches him off guard—a thought that descends upon him one morning while he’s  idly putting his bread into the toaster, neurons in his brain slowly gearing up for the day. He's in the midst of humming senseless tunes, voice still slightly hoarse when he suddenly realizes that he's been talking to Sungjin for almost half a year.

 

Winter had come and gone in a blink of an eye, and Jae can only attribute his delayed realization to the fact that California looked the same all year long. The only indication of seasonal changes being the holiday decor that fill the neighbourhood. Time passes in different ways for him and Sungjin. Sungjin, for one, can actually witness the silent death of winter and subtle rejuvenation of spring. Where Sungjin wakes up to blankets of snow, breath fogging as he steps outside the door. Where he travels home upon icy roads and has to be extra careful not to slip and fall onto asphalt grounds. The weather of Korean Winters seems improbable to Jaehyung, as he holds up his phone clad in a light hoodie to see Sungjin wrapped in layers of sweaters.

 

But now the prime of spring peaks around the corner and Jae, still clad in hoodies and torn jeans, holds up his phone to see Sungjin attires similar to his own. It's slightly disorienting when Jae ponders too much on it, where he's seemingly stuck in one place while Sungjin moves on with his life. Where he's still pining and pining, spiralling into his own thoughts. Time moves separately for the two of them, and Jae wonders if Sungjin works through time fast enough, he’d be able to transcend backwards back to him.

 

But in all of the Theorems of Relativity, Jae knows that Sungjin would only make his way to the Jaehyung of Different Worlds. And never, would he travel through time to find the _him_ that’s residing in _this_ world. Giving a soft sigh, Jae picks up his toast and dejectedly slabs on a spoonful of strawberry jam.

 

 _If only,_ he thinks.

  
  
  
  
  


Sungjin sends him a message later in the day, a photo of several flower buds sprouting and half of his face cut off at the photo’s edge. It's accompanied by a message of "I found these in the garden today." The voice in Jae's mind interprets with the very intonations Sungjin would’ve said them in. He gives another sigh, pinch-zooming the image until the pixels become all too apparent. For one-sided love works in the strangest ways, and while Jae wants to laugh at Sungjin's inability to take nice selfies, there's something about Sungjin's blurry face (half of his face, he corrects) that leaves him feeling breathless and agitated all at once.

 

"You're annoying," He mutters at his phone monitor, swiping the photo left and right. He finally turns off his screen after a good minute, too exhausted to conjure up a coherent reply, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

 

Love, Jae deems, is breaking him down.

  
  
  
  
  


“You’re taking this all too seriously,” Brian tells him over late-night pancakes at the diner. It’s the dead of night but Jae doesn’t find it in himself to be left alone with his phone when his inner state of mind is all discombobulated.

 

“I know,” Jae answers while cutting his pancake into equal sized pieces. “It’s not like I _don’t_ know that it’s not as serious as I make it out to be. But feelings just don’t work that way, you know?” He gives his meal a final slice, butterknife clinking against the ceramic dish as if he was cutting through his clouding thoughts and not two-dollar fluffy pancakes drowned in maple syrup. It’s comfort food at its best, and Jae munches down on all the carbohydrates and saccharides that will replace the sadness that lingers in his system.

 

“Like I’ve said all along,” Brian says with a pause to take another bite, “you should just tell him.”

 

“Yeah, sure. _Just Tell Him_.” He huffs at the thought. “I ain’t got the courage for that shit yet.”

 

“Wow, what happened to the Real Man Jae Park?”

 

“Shut up and eat your pancakes before I throw a knife at you.”

 

“Damn, you went from Soft Boy to Violent Man a bit too quick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this fic is truly skewing its way off the course road too fast......


	5. and they told me I don't need to worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen...i don't know where i'm trying to take this i just wanted a fluff oneshot why am i spiralling into mellow romance again...

“You seem down lately,” Sungjin comments during another one of their facetime sessions. He’s settled on his couch, phone in one hand and mug in the other. Jae is buried in his blankets, as usual, head peeking out from the makeshift cocoon. “Yeah,” He admits, “I’ve just got some stuff on my mind.”

 

“Want to talk about it?” The younger male asks in a tone so sincere, tugging all too much at Jaehyung’s heartstrings. There it is again, he thinks. There’s the spark of magic that lines Sungjin’s existence—a warmth that radiates from the other male. And as Jaehyung looks at the other’s eyes (so bright, so bright) through the screen of his phone, he can’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment that Sungjin is so nice to everyone. Where he’s not the only one to receive the other’s attention and concern. It diffuses all sorts of illusions that perhaps, he too was special to the other boy, leaving Jaehyung with heavy shoulders and a heavy heart as well.

 

“It’s nothing much, ” Jaehyung starts, all too aware of late-night adrenaline. The neurons in his brain fire potentials against his will, as his mind warns his heart.

  
  


“Just…”

 

( _Don’t do anything you’ll regret,_ the mind whispers. )

 

“I think I’m in love.”

 

( _No,_ the heart defies.)

  
  
  
  
  


The line goes silent for time that Jaehyung knows is shorter than what he perceives, and once again they’re travelling at different speeds, different times. When Sungjin finally speaks again, Jaehyung already regrets it all.

 

“And why has it got you down?” Sungjin asks, settling down his mug to hold the phone with both hands. Jaehyung doesn’t look back at the phone screen, averting his gaze while sinking further down in his blankets. “I don’t think they’d ever love me.” He mutters, voice muffled by his covers. The ringing silence in his room seems almost suffocating and if Sungjin didn’t look upset before, he definitely did now. _Yeah,_ he thinks, _definitely regretting everything now._

 

“You’re beating yourself down, Jaehyung.”

 

“I know, but unrequited love seems to break people down like this.” He replies in a tone which he only hopes sounds playful.

 

“Does this person not like you?” Sungjin questions, leaning back into his sofa, clearly not taking Jaehyung’s attempt to brighten the mood.

 

“No. I think they like me. But they don’t _like_ me—let alone _love_ me. It all seems too heavy, you know? Too fast of a progression for everyth—sorry, I’m rambling. It’s too late in the night for me to think clearly.” He’s high-strung on adrenaline, energy filling his veins with every breath he takes. He blinks slowly, surveying Sungjin’s features via his screen, suddenly too aware of the fact that the other boy looked less than comfortable.

 

When Sungjin speaks again, his voice is lower and heavier than usual, lacklustre compared to its usual melodic ring. Jae winces internally as the bottomless pit within him expands. “Jaehyung-ah, do you really like this person?” He replies with a wistful hum, willing away a particular stinging feeling in his eyes, “Yeah, I think I do.”

 

He tries not to stare back into the other’s gaze—all too intense even when they’re shielded behind phone displays and shitty front cameras. “It’s okay, it’ll pass with time.”

 

“It’s okay,” Sungjin reiterates, “I’ll always be here for you.”

 

 _Ironic,_ he thinks.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jae feels particularly horrible in retrospect when messages from Sungjin become infrequent after that night—stomach twisting into knots and his heart turning into stone. It may be that for some ill-fated coincidence, Sungjin is _just busier_. Or it may also be that Jae is simply overanalyzing, again. But all in all, it all comes down to Jae looking idly at his phone too many times only to find that his messages aren't replied to.

 

“I’m such a fucking moron.” He groans for the umpteenth time, messing up his hair as he tugs a bit too hard. It stays tufted up even when he removes them but he doesn’t bother to style it back down.

 

“Or maybe he’s just busy,” Brian says nonchalantly, flipping through his notes for accounting class. “There’s the time difference and all, you know.”

 

“Or maybe I just fucked up because I never remember the degree of disclosure I’m _supposed_ to have.”

 

Brian raises an eyebrow, clearly amused at his distraught state. “Maybe that,” he muses. Jae gives him a pointed glare before the younger speaks again. “Honestly, you haven’t even told him anything _that_ stressing. I’m pretty sure it’s fine.”

 

“Yeah, but most people don’t appreciate being around other people’s negative feelings.”

 

“ _Friends_ , for one, don’t care about that shit.”

 

“Well clearly!!!,” Jae waves his hands vaguely in the air, “Sungjin does!!” He fumbles to unlock his phone, bringing back the screen of his latest message—still unanswered.

 

“Hyung,” Brian says, switching to Korean and having stopped flipping through his notes by now, “If Sungjin-hyung is honestly the person you’re making him out to be, then I’d prefer that you weren’t in love with him.”

 

It brings his thoughts to a halt, tumbling over due to inertia as he holds his hands out to break the fall. “He’s not—Sungjin’s not a bad person, Bri ” He tries to collect himself, “I’m just scared.”

  
“I’m not—I’m not even _in love_.” Jae continues, also switching to Korean, “I’m just falling.”


	6. just more than I could take

If it’s one thing that Jae would say about Sungjin—somehow sum up his overwhelming existence into something concise—it would be that he never fails to take Jae by surprise. In the way that Jae never knows how he’s going to react to the other. Sometimes he feels as if he’s rising above the clouds, adrenaline rushing high in glee. Other times he feels as if his heart lurches in all the wrong ways, tunnelling down the rabbit hole until it gets lost in wonderland.

And this time around, Jae only feels numb, failing to process the surge of emotions that rise up to his throat but refuse to come out. He wonders if he’ll die of asphyxiation, dead before he ever lets to reveal his inner thoughts. But then again, he wonders if it’d be better off that he _does_ die then and there, never having to face Sungjin again.

“Jaehyung?”

He jolts from his thoughts, back straightening when he finally looks back at his screen. “I said I’m visiting next week, do you think you’d be free to meet up?”

“You’re coming,” he hesitates, pointing vaguely in the air, “ _here_?”

“Yeah, my relative’s wedding is being held in California so I’d be in the area for a good two weeks.”

“And you want to see _me?”_ The words comes out too rushed, too much force as he jabs a finger at himself—striking him in the heart. (Befitting, he thinks.) He sees Sungjin frowning across the monitor, ( _But why?_ ) characteristic smile turning into something more apprehensive. “Why won’t I want to see you? Do you not want to see me?”

“It’s not that!” He refutes, “It’s just that I didn’t know why’d you want to see me.”

“We’re friends, Jaehyung-ah. Of course I’d want to meet you.”

 _Friends,_ he ponders upon the term, thinking back to Brian’s words. He bites his lower lip, minds wandering into mazes. Sungjin eyes him warily, “Did you not want to meet up? It’s okay if you aren’t up for it.”

Jae shakes his head, rubbing his clammy hands onto his jeans, “No, I want to meet you. I want to see you in person.”

“Then so be it,” Sungjin declares, smile back on his face as he relaxes back into his seat. “I want to see you too.”

“I can’t wait,” Jae says with a small smile, somehow feeling all too exhausted when all the world’s only stirring awake.

Spring revives all of life and Jae’s only melting away like the Winter snow. He flows into the coursing river, falling endlessly until he reaches the boundless ocean.

And then,

He drowns.

 

 

 

 

 

In all honesty, he doesn’t know how to feel. Happy?--That he’s finally going to meet Sungjin and that the other has explicitly stated that he had wanted to meet him as well. But there’s the other side of things where Jae feels all too uneasy of Sungjin entering yet another realm of his life. And if he had fallen so easily for Sungjin who existed only through display monitors and audio waves, then how badly would he fall when Sungjin is right _there_ —someone whom he can physically touch and surround himself with. And what would happen when he’s gone again, back halfway across the globe in the realms of his own domain. How would Jae adjust to the sudden loss? Would he fall even harder?

But what about Sungjin? Would it be that when they do meet, he’d grow fond of him as well? Or would it be that Sungjin would realize that Jae really isn’t all he presents himself to be—that all of his online presence is tailored to only show a small part of his fragile heart. Would he be disappointed that all in all, Jae is only another ordinary guy. Just another friend.

Just friends, he mumbles, strumming impromptu melodies on his guitar. How would Sungjin react when he realizes that Jaehyung doesn't want to be _just_ friends. For even if he had never planned to act upon his desires, it doesn’t help that the thoughts swim in his consciousness—invading every crack and crevice of his mind.

How would Sungjin react when he finds out that all Jaehyung wants to do is place his hands into the other’s, interlace their fingers until their lips find way to one another. That Jaehyung wants to drown himself with the other’s existence, drenching head to toe in everything that Sungjin is.

But then again, Jaehyung reckons, Sungjin would never have to find out.

Fanciful thoughts.

Useless worries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brian sees him off, stands worrily at the platform as Jae holds his train ticket until it crumples and dampens from his clammy hands. The sun has barely risen, still peering from beyond the horizon. “You look sick,” the younger comments.

“I _feel_ sick,” he sighs.

“Do you want me to go with you? For moral support?”

“I would love to, but at the same time I don’t think I’m ready for you to witness my deterioration first-handedly.” He attempts to lighten the mood, conjuring a small smile before he takes another look at his watch. “I gotta board, Bri.”

“Take care, you can do it,” Brian gives him a reassuring nod, “I believe in you.”

He’s halfway on the train, one foot upon the vehicle, one foot upon the platform edge. He hesitates, turning around one more time. “Hey, if anything happens, can you come and get me?” It’s one of the rare moments where Jae is solemn, where he no longer hides behinds the iron mask he’s constructed for so long. He feels as if he’s a warrior without his armour, vitals all out in the open for the opponent to strike.

But Brian, sweet old Brian who knows where to draw the line between their usual banters and more serious moments, only envelopes him into an embrace—covering his vulnerabilities with his strong hold. “Sure, hyung. Just call me and I’ll be there for you.”

“Thanks Bri.”

“It’s okay, I’m your best friend even when you’re a mopey mess,” The younger glances at his wristwatch, “You should board now, before they kick you off.”

Jae gives a curt nod, swinging his backpack on his shoulders and striding aboard the train. It feels almost triumphant—a small step for one man, a giant leap for the monsters that scavenge for his heart.

Eight-forty-two.

Jaehyung waits for the world to detonate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the semester's started and lol you can see my soul deteriorating behind these words i no longer know how to write anything


End file.
